Twenty-Four
by dearsora
Summary: "Day, n. A period of twenty-four hours, mostly misspent." This quote by Ambrose Bierce speaks of simplistic days and hours wasted...but what happens when you spend them right?


**Hey guys! This is my second fanfiction ever, but if you follow my first fanfiction, ****_Blue Moon_****, then you will notice some kind of major differences between this story and that one. I wanted to begin this one because the idea struck me suddenly and I had to run with it before it ran away from me. ****_Blue Moon_**** is still active, but I wanted to have another story going at the same time so, if I became burnt out or stuck on one, I can work on the other. Anyways, this story focuses around a retelling of an event, sort of, and the lengths of these chapters will vary greatly and the way it is being told will be a little unorthodox, but please take a look at this first chapter and send me a review and tell me if it seems good or not! Again, thanks for taking a gander at it. :)**

**Disclaimer: I did not create Austin and Ally**

* * *

Three-o-two a.m. and thoughts swarm through my mind like a chaos of raindrops wanting to band together, ready to paint the sky in a wisp of white. In a way, those raindrops have good intentions, to beautify the opus of an atmosphere. My thoughts only aim to ratify the chaos that my heart creates at the sound of magnificence, the view of gold, the inner trance of an ocean's blue:

_Him._

Yet maybe this isn't my doing. Maybe this is because it's three-o-five a.m. and they claim that three a.m. is the "witching hour." Maybe I'm simply diving too deep into my conscious and it'll be covered up with minuscule distractions and contracts when I wake again. Or maybe, my mind and heart have finally convened a time to encounter and discuss their differences and fashion out a compromise. I'm not sure; maybe, I just think too much.

Whenever I feel things becoming too realistic for me, I recall back to the very beginning, where looks where just looks and a brush of a hand against another was truly an accident. That's how things used to be between us. The look of his face never drew butterflies and the sound of his voice seldom echoed within the walls of my cognizance hours after his presence had left. Formerly, everything was strictly simple.

But then he met a girl…isn't that how it always goes? I shouldn't temper my mind with such a low standard as jealousy, but when so much time is spent on a person, it just becomes second nature to be threatened when someone challenges that little code of intimacy. Ir-respectively, since his time has been split between her and me, I have found numerous distractions. For example, writing songs for myself and going shopping with Trish and working at Sonic Boom and going for walks and eating…

Yet every night, this wheel of thought clouds my mind and there hasn't been a thing I can accomplish to direct myself away from the truth. I am in love with someone who likes someone else.

How elementary to define feelings down to a single, minute word. _Like_. Did Austin simply _like_ that girl? Was it more? If I love him…maybe he feels the same? Maybe fear masks his true outlooks?

Regardless, it is three-twenty-one a.m., and all I can do about the situation is analyze it and pick it apart. I can't leave the safety of my room to change anything now. I am trapped by daily rituals and rhythmic patterns above my single existence. It is night time and night time is meant for sleeping, which I really should to do since I need to be up in less than an hour…

But every time I try to sleep, all I see is that first encounter between Austin and me. I'm aware that I sound obsessive, but all the feelings I felt in that moments trumps everything I had felt up to that point. The angst, the wonder, the potential I saw in him; it was like a canvas with the beginning strokes of a masterpiece. How could I ignore that?

…I couldn't.

There he was, in the chaotic glory of a mess he was, playing on the drum set with…corn dogs. That sounds crazy, I know, but he was talented, and that was what fascinated me the most. Ever since then, I have been his treasure cove of a lyricist, drawing out the words he couldn't on his own. He has a beautiful voice, but we all have our weaknesses, and unfortunately, depth is his. I'm not saying he is completely immature, but if it came down to a life or death situation, I'm pretty sure his last moment would be a wordless shock, incapable of fathoming the total significance of it.

I'm sort of hoping that changes in him, but then again…maybe not. He needs me, and I need him, in an unorthodox kind of way. It's almost as if we complete each other; ever since our paths have crossed, I've gained a confidence I failed to have on my own. He inspires me to take chances, acting like a cushion to land on in case I do fail. Nobody has ever really been that for me before, and I'm still figuring out how to continually have that confidence with Austin's company lacking in my life.

If I failed to mention earlier, that girl Austin "likes" is his girlfriend. After they hung out a few times, he asked her out and of course she was intelligent enough to accept his offer. Who wouldn't? I mean, he is an upcoming celebrity with beauty and talent. Even if a girl wasn't too into him, at least the notoriety would be enough of a gain for the shallowest of people.

I never saw Austin as that, and I hope I never will. Maybe it's because I know him on such a personal level. I know the bad sides of him; the embarrassing moments, how he looks late at night when we've stayed up in the practice room at my dad's music shop making a song he would have to sing the very next day. I know his terrible eating habits the smell of his cologne, the colors of his room and the topics him and his best friend Dez like to frequent. I know him so well. I'm sure she doesn't know all those things, but she probably doesn't have to because most of the little things usually don't matter in the long run.

After they began dating, the time I expended with him was more precious than before, similar to those moments when the realization of time spent becomes clearly apparent. I never valued the time I had with him until that time was habitually shortened. Daily visits became weekly visits and lyrics started becoming modest ideas that barely covered half a sheet of paper. His record had been released, so his excuse was that he didn't need any new songs until the start-up of his sophomore album, which won't be for a few months.

It just hurt knowing that our time was literally just for writing music and not for us. That's when I started to truly _feel_ things. I began to notice the vividness of his eyes, the butterflies in my stomach whenever I would see him. I took into account how he came into my mind more often. Like now, I catch myself thinking of him and how it would be to be that girl who I always saw holding his hand outside the snack bar kiosk. Romanticism never occurred to me until the chance I didn't know I had was gone.

It's three forty-two a.m. and my phone begins to play the Star Trek theme song. Someone was calling me.

"Hello?" I answer in a tone split between exhaustion and curiosity.

"…Ally?" the voice replied in an apologetic and equally curious tone. "You're awake?"

When I realized who it was, I shot up, my heart pounding through my ears. My hand goes straight to my chest to feel that rhythm, surprised that I hadn't passed out yet. "Umm…" I caught my breath, "uhh, yea, I'm up. What's up with you…Austin?"

"Oh thank God," he sighed in relief. "I really need someone to talk to right now and you're the first person I thought of."

Oh dear Lord. "Yep…that's me!" I stifled a fake giggle.

I imagined him smiling at that. "Yes, it is. I think you were right about Jennifer…she broke up with me."

I wish I could explain all the emotions I felt in that instant, but a rush of thoughts and feelings poured into my existence and all I could do was process the simplicity that were the words at hand. "She broke up with you? Why?"

"I have no idea, Ally. It was so weird, like, out of the blue," the confusion truly was thick in his voice. "She texts me at three-thirty-five, right? She says that we need to talk, so I respond and then she just drops it on me."

"Oh, that sounds weird-"

"Totally! What's weirder is…I should feel upset, but I'm a little relieved…"

There goes my heart again. "Relieved?"

"Yea. I did like her, well, do, whatever…but I don't think it was ever truly mutual."

Austin Moon, analyzing a relationship…this was strange to her. "What do you mean?"

"I just…never got the vibe from her, you know?" He pauses. "But I guess I have more free time now!"

I allow the largest smile to take over my face, feeling the glow of joy from the news Austin just gave me. Is that terrible?

"Well…you'll heal, I'm sure of it!"

"Yea…" he trails off. "Hey, enough about this, since I already have you awake…are you excited?"

I just remembered why I have to technically be up in seven minutes. Oh gosh, oh gosh. "Oh…yea, you know it!"

"Ally, you know you can be honest with me, I can hear your nerves through the phone," he laughed. "Don't worry. Trish, Dez, and I will be with you every step of the way!"

"I know," was all I could say. The smile did not waver.

"I believe in you, Ally Dawson. Remember that. I'll always have your back."

There came those pesky butterflies again. I hadn't spoken a word, so I hear his voice come back a little shaky, "Uhh…well, I'll see you soon, right?"

"Right!" I respond with the slightest hint of misconception.

"Until then," the words flow through the phone and I can literally feel my heart melt inside of me.

"Yea," I say and click the phone off.


End file.
